The Virus Builders
by B L Lindley Anderson
Summary: Sequel to "The Fix".  Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan go in search of those who created the virus that almost cost Qui-Gon his life.


"The Virus Builders"

Sequel to "The Fix"

By B. L. Lindley-Anderson

Qui-Gon had been released from the clinic but was not completely recovered from his ordeal. Therefore, he was taking a few days to rest and recuperate. Currently he was curled up on the couch in his room, alternating between napping and reading. The door chime sounded and Qui-Gon called out, "Come in, Obi-Wan."

The door slid open and the young padawan entered with a grin on his face. "It's true! Your Force ability has returned"

"Yes, now that the virus has been exterminated, my body is able to produce new healthy blood cells. And since my midiclorian count is determined on the genetic level, the cells will be reproduced according to the blueprint in my DNA and the midiclorians are returning to their former concentration." Qui-Gon swung himself into a sitting position and motioned Obi-Wan to a chair. "We haven't had a chance to talk much about what happened. When I was so ill, I know I had lost my ability to use the Force. So, I'm assuming that my ability to talk to you was because you were reaching out to me." The Jedi hesitated, seeking the right words. "I thought I was going to die, Obi-Wan. If you hadn't been there to reassure me…I'm not sure what would have happened. I was ready to give up my will to go on—even though I didn't understand what it was I was truly fighting against. Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"Master, you don't have to thank me. I was just drawing on what you have taught me. I was feeling instead of thinking. If I had stopped to think about what I was doing…I wouldn't have known what to do. Besides," Obi-Wan hesitated. "I don't deserve your thanks. I deserve your reprimand—more—your condemnation."

"Condemnation?" Qui-Gon replied, concern tingeing his voice. "For what?"

The padawan rose from the chair and walked away from his master. He walked to the wall which he leaned against and hung his head. Drawing in a deep breath he blurted it all out at once, "I almost took a man's life in anger. I almost gave in to my hate."

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, then replied, "I see. Tell me."

"The governor, Kelal. He was playing games with me while I was trying to figure out where they had you hidden. I was concerned about you, and frustrated with him, and tired of them putting me off. Oh—I'm not trying to excuse what I've done—just trying to explain how it came about. I thought I could intimidate him into telling me where you were—but I let my anger go too far and I pulled my light saber on him and threatened to kill him." Obi-Wan was almost in tears by now.

Qui-Gon went to the padawan. He put his hand on his shoulder. "Obi-Wan, I won't try to give you false justification for what you did. It is a serious matter. But, listen to me," the Jedi master turned Obi-Wan to face him. "You _were_ able to stop yourself. You _didn't_ kill him. You faced the temptation—and you _overcame _it. Think on that."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond but Qui-Gon stopped him. "No. No more about it now. We'll talk more—a lot more—about it after you've had time to think about that. _You _made the choice to stop when you did."

An awkward silence passed as the padawan tried to think of an appropriate reply. Qui-Gon observed Obi-Wan's demeanor as he watched the apprentice squirm under his gaze. Then the master changed the subject to try to divert his thoughts. _Better he should think on it while alone, in meditation maybe _Qui-Gon thought.

"Mi'al tells me that the Jedi council had a meeting concerning this virus yesterday."

"Yes, I sat in that meeting. The council has decided to assign someone to delve into this, to see if they can find out who produced the virus. It's their opinion that this was manufactured by an enemy of the knights to be the fix to the "problem" of the Jedi—their ultimate solution to rid the Republic of the keepers of justice. I sure would like to be included in that investigation," Obi-Wan said with conviction.

"So would I, padawan, so would I."

A couple of weeks later, Master Qui-Gon had submitted himself once more to the healers to poke, prod and question him. Satisfied that he was fit enough to return to his normal regime of duties, they released him from their care. It did not take long for the news to reach the Jedi council. Late that same day they issued a request for Qui-Gon and his padawan to attend them the following morning.

"Looking healthy you are, Master Qui-Gon," Yoda greeted as they entered the chamber room.

"Thank you, Master. I feel much better than the last time I stood here," Qui-Gon replied simply.

"Happy we are that their cure was effective. Concerned, however, are we about this virus."

"We need to find out who engineered this…and for what reason," Mace Windu added.

"Yes, Obi-Wan told me that you suspect that it may be a deliberate attack on the Jedi," Qui-Gon replied.

"It may be so since it most aggressively attacks midiclorian," Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up. "It seems logical that since the Jedi have the highest midiclorian concentrations, that any substance that would assail them would be directed at the Jedi."

"Assigned you are, Qui-Gon, to investigate this possibility," Yoda announced. "And find out who behind this is."

"The healers have certified you physically able to return to your duties. However, we must know how you feel," Master Windu said emphatically. And Qui-Gon could feel all eyes looking at him—through him—as they awaited his answer.

"I feel healthy enough for the assignment," Qui-Gon confirmed.

Yoda prodded the Jedi, "Close to death you were. No hesitation does this give you to face this again?"

"No, Master Yoda," he answered honestly. "Just determination to get to the bottom of this."

Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, "The healers have told us that this virus does not exhibit normal virus behaviour because it was genetically engineered. However, there is the possibility that you may have developed immunity to it. That is the reason you are given this task."

Qui-Gon stole a look at his padawan who had taken in everything in complete silence.

The look did not escape Mace Windu. "We are aware that Obi-Wan has not had the virus and therefore had not the chance to build immunity. But we aren't totally sure that you have protection against it."

"Resistance or not, I accept the assignment." Qui-Gon replied simply.

The Jedi began their investigation of the unnatural germ with the healers who had treated Qui-Gon, Mi'al and Kiel. Kiel gladly conceded to Mi'al, the elder and more experienced healer, to answer.

"I'm not sure what I can tell you about the phage that will help you find out who made it, Qui-Gon."

"Tell me all that you do know about it."

"Well, that won't take long. It is a man-made microorganism that attacks cells. However, it is geared specifically to destroying the midiclorians in the cell. Once it has annihilated that part of a cell, it ignores the remains and moves on to another cell. It is quite robust and resistant to attack by a large number of substances that we tested against it—both natural and synthetic. Whoever designed it did a good job."

"And there's no way of telling us anything of its origin from its makeup?"

"No. I wouldn't know how to even go about trying to figure out its origin—from our standpoint. I do know this. It is not communicable. You did not catch it from someone. It had to be introduced directly into your bloodstream—by an injection maybe. Can you recall being stuck or scrapped by anything a few days before you started getting sick?"

"Hmmm. That's been some time ago. I'll have to think about it. About how many days prior to the first symptoms?"

"The incubation time depends on the conditions it is introduced into. However, I would say three to five days before your first symptoms is when you were infected initially."

"Thank you for your time, Mi'al." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned and exited the clinic. The Jedi had some thinking to do.

"Can you remember what we were doing that long ago, Master? That's been about a month ago," Obi-Wan said doubtfully.

"Well, it should be easy enough to narrow down, Padawan" Qui-Gon answered as he crossed to the desk in his quarters. He picked up a data pad as he seated himself. "This is my appointment schedule and journal. It's just a matter of finding the days in question and seeing what notations are here."

Obi-Wan should have known. Master Qui-Gon was as organized as he was composed. It figured he would have a record of his activities. The apprentice sat in a chair adjacent to the desk and tried not to crane his neck. He wasn't trying to be nosy as much as he was just anxious to try to figure out when this may have happened.

"Hmmm," Qui-Gon muttered as he ran his finger tips through his close-cropped dark beard.

"Have you found something, Master?" Obi-Wan asked a little more anxiously than he meant to.

Without looking up, Qui-Gon replied, "Still having trouble controlling your patience, Padawan?" He didn't look up because he didn't want his learner to see the grin he was trying to suppress. He remembered, indeed, what it was like to be young and impetuous. "Yes, I have found something very interesting. Do you recall the special meeting of the Senate on the upcoming vote to tax trade routes?"

"Yes, I do remember that," Obi-Wan remembered only too well—the endless bickering, accusations and finger pointing associated with that whole debate. He had to admit being relieved that the meetings were concluded. He and his master had been appointed by the Jedi council to attend the meetings and bring news of how the dispute was proceeding and who the primary protagonists were. For two days the apprentice had had to fight off boredom by studying the other delegates. That in itself was enough to keep one interested for days, so great was the diversity of creatures represented in the Galactic Senate—from the tall, brown, furry Wookies to the tall, green, smooth Nemoidians—the assortment was enough to intrigue even the most jaded observer.

"Those meetings occurred 3 and 4 days prior to when I first became ill." The master's eyes glazed as he stared into space and considered.

"Do you think someone in the Senate did it?" Obi-Wan was incredulous—not that a representative of the Senate would actually engage in such an activity—but that they would do it in such a forum as the Galactic Senate, and to someone as noteworthy as a Jedi.

Qui-Gon locked eyes with his apprentice. "Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be a member of the Senate. There were quite a few observers those two days. It was an explosive issue."

"Yes," Obi-Wan mumbled as he considered that. "It could have been any one of hundreds of beings! How are we going to be able to narrow it down?"

The Jedi master paused to mull that over. "Well, we are going to have to make some assumptions to try to bring that number into a more manageable range."

"Such as?" The padawan scooted forward in his seat as he warmed to the task.

"Such as—it probably wasn't a chance encounter—a casual bump into someone in a corridor. Someone perhaps stopped us while they, or an accomplice, carried out the deed."

"But, Master, that's a big assumption. It seems more likely to me that whoever did it would do it in passing, so that you would have more trouble matching a face with an event."

"Yes, Obi-Wan, it is a big assumption. However, I know no other way to proceed but to make assumptions. Yours is just as valid as mine. However, call it intuition, I think that whoever is behind this planned it carefully enough that they didn't want to leave anything to chance—including the possibility of missing their target through a casual encounter."

"All right, I yield to your reasoning. Where do we go with it?"

"More notes, Padawan." Qui-Gon opened a drawer in the desk and searched briefly before removing a couple of data pads. "Since we had to report our observations of the Senate proceedings to the Jedi council, I made notations of significant events and remarks."

"You wrote down everything we did?" Obi-Wan was skeptical.

"No," Qui-Gon allowed a small smile. "Not everything. However, besides making notes on the debates, I also made notes of any interesting conversations that we were privy to. So, I do have a record of some of the people we talked to. Even if our culprit is not listed here, maybe this will help evoke some memories."

"I think another assumption you can make to narrow down the choices is to see which of the attendees that you talked with are aligned in favor of the taxation. Since the council doesn't favor the taxation, maybe this is retaliation for that."

"That's a good observation, Padawan," Qui-Gon answered. "However, there are some members against the taxation who are no friends of the Jedi. But I still think for a first approximation, yours is a good assumption."

"So are there any names that jump out at your intuition as likely suspects?"

"Yes, several. Most." Qui-Gon mused. "As keepers of justice in the Republic, the Jedi have made a lot of enemies. This may be more difficult than I originally thought. However, I don't know of another way to go about it. We have nothing that links the virus with anyone." Leaning back and staring at the ceiling, the master was weighing different approaches to the problem. "Mmm," he mumbled.

"Yes?" Obi-Wan questioned.

"Oh, it may lead to nothing, but I was thinking…maybe we should go back and talk to some of these people we encountered those two days. If we corner the right person, maybe their guilt will give them away."

"You mean maybe the right person might become nervous under questioning and reveal himself?"

"Exactly."

After a day of meeting with Senators, ambassadors, prime ministers and various hangers-on who hoped for political favors from the object of their attention, the two Jedi had precious little to show for their efforts. The politicians had learned their game well; hiding information from enemies, hedging bets with allies, smiling while inside they were ready to explode. Most had been around enough years to be able to sell their own mother to the lowest bidder and make her feel honored by it.

"If we did talk with someone who has knowledge of the virus, they did a great job of hiding it," Obi-Wan sighed in frustration as he and Qui-Gon departed the Galactic Senate building.

"Yes, you are right. I didn't pick up much from the Force. Of course, we didn't exactly come right out and ask them about the virus. It would be a dangerous thing for the existence of that to become common knowledge. Still I could sense no unease in them when questioned about our encounter at that Senate meeting. A couple were quite adept at controlling themselves. It's hard to know if that's just one of the things they have developed as a politician or if they had something they were trying to protect."

"Master, are you still sure that this is the way to proceed?" Obi-Wan grumbled.

Stifling a grin, the Jedi said in seriousness, "Perhaps you are right, Padawan. This is time consuming and seems to be a dead end. What would you suggest?"

"Me?" Obi-Wan asked in surprise. He had not expected this to be turned back upon him. He paused as he tried to think of another way to narrow down the possible suspects. Which planet, race, organization or even person—could this have been the act of a single person? His mind boggled at the permutations. The apprentice exhaled heavily and admitted defeat. "I don't know of another way, Master."

"Good. Only a wise man will admit his limitations. A fool builds himself up." Qui-Gon was silent for a moment as he reviewed his strategy himself. "There is always information to be bought. Because of its place as the central location of the government of the Republic, Coruscant attracts a lot of self-seeking vermin who will do anything for a credit. We could visit some of the more…base…sections of the planet and see if we can find out anything. However, I would like to spend one more day meeting with some of the politicians. We didn't have that many individual encounters and it may still provide us with something. Even if we learn something that eliminates one suspect—that is progress."

"Yes, Master."

The next day found the master and padawan back in the middle of the Senate building. Qui-Gon was in the lead as he strode purposefully toward a door he had been to more than once. The door opened to reveal a tall thin pale blue male sitting behind a desk tapping away on a keyboard. The keyboard was of a design that Obi-Wan had not seen before. He quickly recognized why however. The creature had four digits on each hand and two were opposable digits, much like the apprentice's thumb. The blue being had tufts of light blue fur on the back of each hand and on each cheek, making him look as if he had gotten cotton candy stuck on him. His long neck twisted around slowly at the _swoosh_ of the opening door. His pale green eyes created such a contrast with his azure skin that Obi-Wan had to suppress a gasp of wonderment.

"How may I help you," the Cirrulun stood and extended his hand.

Qui-Gon tapped the open palm, the Cirrulun gesture of greeting and said, "Is Senator Olona in?"

The cerulean hand then reached toward the apprentice. He tried to mimic the motion he'd seen his master execute and tried not to think of blue sweet fluff in his mouth.

"Yes, Master Qui-Gon. The Senator is in. He is busy, but I am sure he will want to see you."

"If he is able to spare a few minutes I would be most grateful," the Jedi said respectfully.

"One moment." The lanky creature disappeared through a door on the other side of his desk.

"Interesting," Obi-Wan whispered.

"They are delightful to behold, are they not?" Qui-Gon said in obvious admiration.

"I don't remember seeing these creatures during the Senate meeting."

"True, we didn't see them. However, Ulla is an old friend and I was just wondering if he might have heard any stirrings. Anything that might steer us in the right direction.

"Master Qui-Gon, Senator Olona will see you." The Cirrulun held the door for the two Jedi.

A similar blue figure awaited the pair inside the office. He instantly sprang to his feet and rushed forward. "Ah! Qui-Gon, how good to see you once again. Too long."

"Hello, my friend. Yes, too long indeed. May I present my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Most honored to meet you Obi-Wan. Please! Come! Sit." His booming voice vibrated everything in the room that wasn't fastened down. "May I get you something?"

"No, thank you, Ulla. Unfortunately, this isn't a social visit."

"Ah—with you is it ever?" He bellowed out a raucous laugh. "What business do we have?"

"I just wondered if you may have heard anything recently against the council?"

The azure face broke into another noisy round of laughter. "When do I not, my friend? When do I not?"

"This is serious, Ulla. I have reason to believe that someone is launching an attack against the Jedi."

Ulla rested his pointed chin in the fur on the back of his right hand, making it look as if he had a blue beard. Obi-Wan had to calm himself to stifle the laughter that wanted so desperately to erupt. He didn't mean to be disrespectful, but this was a new sight to him and he wasn't quite used to it.

"That is very serious." The Senator leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with the Jedi master. "Tell me."

"I can't tell you much. The council is keeping this locked down tight."

"Mmmmm," Ulla muttered. "It's even more serious than I thought."

"Yes. I can tell you that one Jedi has already been a victim of this attack. And there are…things…about it that seem to earmark it as being Jedi specific."

Ulla shook his azure head and his fur ruffled in the movement. "Fools, whoever they are. Do they think they can defeat the Jedi?"

"They almost defeated one," Qui-Gon's voice was almost a whisper.

"Truly?" Ulla was openly amazed. His countenance took on a grave appearance. "I have heard the same murmurings that I have heard in the past. More vehement because of the Jedi council's stand on the taxation issue. The worst ones are the allies of that group of parasites known as the Trade Federation. They are creating the most dissention against the Jedi, the Senate, the Chancellor—anyone who seems to be standing in their way. If you want to find your enemies—look to the Trade Federation."

"Yes, I've thought as much. Well, I appreciate your making time to meet with us and for the information. We are going to meet with some other political types to see if we can find out anything."

"Ha ha! I need not tell you, friend, that the ones who have been around the longest know how to hide the best! I'll send out my "ears" and see if I can turn up anything. If I do, you'll be the first to know. Who are you going to see now?"

"We are going to see the senator from Malastare. Thanks again for your help, Ulla. When things calm down, we'll have to get together."

"When do things ever calm down? Hey? You know to be careful of that Malastarian tri-eyed slime worm, don't you? That's one deceitful creature. And a sure enemy of all that is just—including the Jedi."

"Yes, Methone and I have…encountered…each other before. He's a slippery one for sure. I'm not even sure if Methone is his real name or not."

Ulla broke into yet another chorus of guffaws and slapped the Jedi on the back. "Be off with you and make sure you come back when I can actually talk to your apprentice. Good to meet you—or at least see you, Obi-Wan."

"My pleasure, Senator," Obi-Wan bowed his head respectfully.

"Senator? Please, please—Ulla. Only my enemies call me Senator." Ulla chuckled at his own joke as he waved goodbye.

Once back in the hallway, Obi-Wan had several thoughts about the Cirrulun senator but voiced none. However Qui-Gon, even without using the Force, could sense what the apprentice was thinking.

"That is just characteristic of the Cirrulun, Padawan. They have a ready sense of humor, and they are quite…boisterous."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said in agreement, leaving all else unsaid.

The reception at the Malastarian senator's office was quite the opposite. The receptionist glared at the Jedi through her three eyes. Normally her skin was a pale orange color with deeper orange cheeks. Now, however, at the unwelcome guests, her color darkened almost to a rust color over her face. Her low placed pointed ears pulled further down and the two pink antennae turned down along with the corners of her already wrinkled mouth.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Her voice dripped icicles.

"Yes, I would like to speak with Senator Methone."

"Hmph," she snorted. "I know you do not have an appointment. The Senator is most busy and will not see anyone without an appointment. If you like I can set up one for you…say," she ran her finger down the screen of a terminal, "next week at the earliest." She turned back and glared at the elder Jedi.

Qui-Gon simply raised his right hand slightly and passed it between them—looking very much like an off the cuff gesture made during a normal conversation, as he spoke. "I will see if the Senator can speak with you," he said simply.

"I will see if the Senator can speak with you," the receptionist repeated woodenly as she stood and went into Methone's office.

Obi-Wan grinned as he looked over to his master who was as stoic as the wall. "Something wrong, Padawan?"

"Nothing, Master."

The receptionist returned, looking quite flustered. "Senator Methone has stepped out for a moment. I don't know when he'll be back. I suggest you make an appointment."

Qui-Gon brought his hand up again. "I will take you in to see the Senator."

"I will take you in to see the Senator," she replied dutifully as she turned again to the door of the inner office.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan entered the plush office to find Methone seated at his desk, as Qui-Gon knew he would be. At the sight of the two Jedi he jumped to his feet and his face flushed deep orange. He sputtered before he was finally able to put together a coherent sentence.

"What are you doing in here! I told Mowhon to tell you I was busy! That stupid…"

"Don't blame her," Qui-Gon answered quietly. "Our business is most pressing and I was able to get her to see how important it was. We won't take much of your time."

"It does seem to be unavoidable," Methone walked to his window and looked out at the scramble of traffic in the Coruscant sky. "What do you want?"

"We spoke the day of the debates on taxing trade routes. Do you recall?"

The Malastarian's ears twitched, as did his antennae. This movement did not escape the Jedi's notice. He was watching the being for any reaction. Knowing that Methone was one of the more wily and slippery politicians, Qui-Gon was especially mindful of everything the Malastarian did and said. He also could sense fear building up in the Senator.

Without looking back at the Jedi, Methone said simply, "I do _not_ recall, Jedi. You must be mistaken."

"No, I don't believe so," Qui-Gon replied slowly. "You stopped me, as a matter of fact, in the hallway. You said you wanted to know why the council opposed the taxation." Qui-Gon could feel the agitation in the Malastarian as his heart skipped a beat."

Methone was quickly trying to come up with an answer. To try to buy time he suddenly leaned closer to the window, his 3 eyes close to the plexiglass. "Oh my, almost a crash out there," he said with feigned concern. Glancing over his shoulder he asked, "Did you see that?" as he pointed. "No, I guess not from over there. Tsk, the air traffic gets more congested all the time."

"Senator," Qui-Gon interrupted.

"Hmm? Oh, you were asking me a question, weren't you? Well, let's see. I do remember asking you at some point about the taxation issue. However, I think you are quite mistaken about the time. I was not in attendance at the meeting you mentioned." Methone's heart was pounding as he tried to figure out how to appease this Jedi—and get him out of this office.

"Oh? That's odd," the Jedi master responded as he pulled a list from a pocket. "Your name is registered here as one of the official attendees. Let's see, this is a record of senators in attendance. There, there we are," Qui-Gon played his innocent routine perfectly. He crossed to the window and showed the listing to Methone. "Here is your name." The Jedi said in mock triumph as he pointed.

The Senator barely turned his head to look. Qui-Gon thought he could see perspiration beading on the wrinkled peach toned skin. The fear was so palpable that the master almost didn't need the Force to sense it.

"Does it make a difference, Jedi, when we spoke?" Methone sputtered and walked back to his desk and paced behind it. "Yes, I did ask you. I may have been mistaken about when. What does it matter? Look I'm very busy. Do you have some real business here or do you Jedi just like to abuse your authority to harass innocent people?"

"My apologies, Senator. I did not intend to harass you." Qui-Gon bowed to Methone. "This is a highly sensitized issue and I was just revisiting officials that I had spoken with on it. You are welcome to report my behaviour to the Jedi council if you feel I have abused my authority. We will leave."

The Jedi turned and exited without further comment. Methone collapsed into his chair and buried his head in his hands. Two hands covered his side eyes but he had to close the middle one to shut out the offending light. He remained so for a few minutes as he tried to calm himself and slow his breathing. He hoped he had been convincing to the Jedi. Turning quickly to a hidden compartment in his desk, he extracted a communications device tuned only for a single frequency and affixed with state of the art encoding. Turning it on he signaled a particular building, hidden away in the depths of the darkest part of a city on Malastare.

"Methone, this better be important. You are only supposed to use this for emergencies."

"Shut up, Mnedh! This is an emergency! That Jedi, the one that you injected with the virus, he was here. He just left."

"What! Are you sure it was the same one?"

"Yes, I am sure. I've had dealings with him before. It was him."

"How can he still be alive? The Klastarians assured us the virus would be fatal."

"I don't know. They must have found a cure for it. Is there anyway they could use that Force to control it?"

"We were told that the technology to make the phage was only available to the Klastarians. Ruka told me his people had more medical knowledge than any other race. He said that even the Jedi healers weren't able to conduct genetic engineering on the level that they were."

"Well, he was wrong…or lying to you. I just saw the proof of that walk out of this office!"

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?" Fear suddenly filled Mnedh's voice.

"Of course not! Do you think I'm stupid?"

"But you are weak. You must stay far away from the Jedi. If he puts pressure on you, I know you—you'll talk. Hmmm…I think you need to return to Malastare for awhile until this cools down."

"But won't that look suspicious?"

"Dolt! Don't tell anyone. Just depart quietly and leave word with your secretary that you are unavailable to meet with anyone because you are working something urgent."

Methone thought back to his order to the receptionist to send the Jedi away…and then a moment later she was escorting them in. "That may not work. Let me tell you what happened…"

As soon as the two Jedi emerged into the hallway, Obi-Wan turned to speak to his master, who held a hand up to forestall him. After they had entered an elevator Qui-Gon nodded to his padawan.

"Master, did you sense the level of fear in him?"

"Yes, Malastarians are usually easy to sense. Their emotions are so strong and their control so weak. He must be hiding something."

"About the virus," Obi-Wan said with certainty.

"Not so quick, my young apprentice. Yes, he may be hiding something, but we don't know that it has to do with the virus."

"But…" Obi-Wan started to protest but stopped as he thought back over the conversation. "Well, it could be about it. Methone didn't seem to want to admit speaking with you at that meeting."

"True. However, it could be due to other things. The Malastarians are known for their convert activities. It may have something to do with the taxation issue itself."

There was silence as the two vacated the elevator. Obi-Wan was thinking over what Qui-Gon had said. After a few minutes he turned to his master and asked, "So where do we go from here?"

"To Malastare, of course."

"But you said…"

"Yes, I know. However, whatever Methone is up to demands investigation, wouldn't you say, Padawan?"

To say the Jedi did not receive a warm welcome upon their arrival on Malastare would be to understate the issue severely. Because of the Malastarian tendency to conduct deals illicitly and to be paranoid, they had a long record of loathing for those who enforced laws in the Republic. To the inhabitants of the capital city Jedi meant trouble. As the two strolled the streets, trying to get a feel for the flavor of the city and the flow of business, the natives went out of their way to avoid the pair. Also, the buzz of whispered gossip flowed around them like an angry hive of bees.

"Master, how are we going to be able to find out anything with everyone avoiding us like this? We'll never get anyone to talk to us."

"Fear is one of the strongest emotions. However, Obi-Wan, there are some few things that will overcome even that." Qui-Gon reached into a pouch and produced a handful of Republic credits. "Greed, for example." He openly flipped through the paper notes as he stopped at an intersection. The beings who had been scrambling to get away from the pair suddenly began jockeying for positions close enough to eye the wad in the Jedi's hand.

Qui-Gon looked around carelessly, seemingly oblivious to their audience. "We've been at this awhile, Obi-Wan. There must be a place we can stop for some refreshment. Ah, yes, there's a place. Let's go." Qui-Gon started off purposefully, leaving Obi-Wan to rush after him.

The two Jedi entered an eatery and procured a corner table. A small number from the crowd outside followed them in and gathered in the opposite corner. The buzz that had begun on the streets had followed the duo inside as the Malastarians began wondering if any of them were brave enough to try to rob a Jedi.

The proprietor of the establishment had initially blanched when he saw Jedi knights coming through his door. However, as soon as he heard the gossip from the locals, about "piles of currency" he quickly decided to find out for himself whether they were exaggerating. If the customers were well padded then he could make some money himself through a much safer way—excellent service!

"Ah, welcome, welcome, my friends! You chose wisely by coming here. Best food in town—and best service—or your meal is free. Ah… you know in this part of the galaxy we have a lot of traffic. Some creatures come in here with all kinds of worthless paper that they try to pass off as capital. Forgive my mistrust, friend, but I am a businessman. What kind of currency do you have?"

Qui-Gon replied, "I have Republic dataries."

"Ah," the owner crooned as he rubbed his thick hands together, "Credits will do fine!"

"Very well," Qui-Gon said as he eyed the hand-lettered menu board. Bring us two of your specials and Spican gemfruit juice."

"Excellent choice!" The Malastarian turned toward the kitchen.

"Just a moment, friend," Qui-Gon called as he produced the credits again and began fingering them. "Can you tell us where we can find someone to show us around the city? We are new to the planet and we could use some help with…information." The Jedi emphasized the last word, hoping his meaning would be clear—to _all_ who heard him.

The owner hesitated as he considered whether getting entangled with these Jedi would be worth the money. After all, he had to live here—with these creatures who would still be around for him to deal with long after the Jedi had gone. That hesitation was just enough, however, for someone from the other table to speak up—just ahead of his associates. The table tipped and fell as rest of the group stood as one and tried to steal the spotlight that had just fallen on the boldest.

He quickly crossed the room before any of his friends could interpose themselves. "Here, Jedi! I am your man. I know more about this city than anyone. I can show you all you want to see, tell you all you want to know." His three eyes leapt from Qui-Gon to Obi-Wan to the credits on the table.

"Fine," Qui-Gon answered. "Pull up a chair. Owner, please bring something for our friend also. What will you have?"

"Ah," he licked his thin orange lips to keep the saliva from dripping on the table. "Bring me the broiled kanka beast—a whole one!"

"Yes, at once," the proprietor sighed as he mourned the loss of his last elusive—and expensive—kanka beast—and the credits he could have had if only he had spoken up sooner.

The newcomer sat heavily in a chair and stared openly at the Jedi, sizing them up. And trying to count the credits that lay next to Qui-Gon's hand. At last he spoke. "What would you like to know? No one knows more about what goes on in this city than Mynarch."

"Mynarch, I'm Qui-Gon and this is Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon didn't bother to offer his hand and Mynarch didn't seem to mind. "Who's in charge?"

"In charge of what? The city? I'm sure you already know that, Jedi." A look of caution crossed Mynarch's face as his eyes swept between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "What is it you want?"

Silence fell across the table as the food was brought from the kitchen. The owner tried to keep up his gregarious demeanor even though he was now suspicious of what was transpiring between the strangers and Mynarch. "Eat up, my friends. Best food in town. I guarantee it. Now, what else can I bring you? This isn't enough to fill up a mene bird!"

"Thank you, that will be all for now," Qui-Gon said dismissively and waited for the Malastarian to depart before he continued.

He leaned forward and locked eyes with Mynarch—or with two of the shiny onyx orbs. "I want to know who's _really_ in charge…and you know what I mean."

The brave Malastarian suddenly seemed to shrink as he quickly glanced around to see who might be listening in on the conversation. "No," he murmured, "I don't know what you mean."

The wily Jedi pushed the large stack of credits to the middle of the table, remaining silent so the money could speak. Mynarch's eyes were still desperately searching for eavesdropping ears. "You're out of your mind," he croaked quietly. "I can't tell you that. I wouldn't live to spend that," he waved his hand at the notes.

"That's merely a down payment," Qui-Gon replied. "To get you off the planet. Then you can find a place where you will live to spend the other part."

The black eyes lit up and Mynarch brought his hand to his short wrinkled chin as he thought about the offer. Qui-Gon began to eat and nodded for Obi-Wan to follow suit. He left their guest to ponder how much more money he could expect to receive. After a couple of minutes he pushed his chair back and rose quickly. "I have to think about this." He wanted to be away from the sight of the money while he tried to make up his mind. Mynarch didn't want his greed to guide him into a foolish decision.

"If that's the way you want it, friend," the elder Jedi replied without looking up. "But we can't wait and we can't chance another meeting with you." He could sense the changing feelings that were flashing through the Malastarian—greed, fear, daring. He knew that the Malastarian was close to being scared off but he had a plan for that as well. In fact, he had expected any suspicious, paranoid Malastarian to run from his request. Qui-Gon calmly continued eating while Mynarch struggled with himself.

"No, no. I can't do it. You don't know, you don't understand." Mynarch twirled on his heel and practically ran through the door.

Obi-Wan watched the retreating creature and then eyed his master. "You know how jumpy they are. You pushed him like that on purpose, didn't you?"

Qui-Gon hailed his host and lay a healthy stack of credits in his hand.

"Oh, thank you, friend. Thank you. You come back anytime. I promised you the best food, didn't I? Obviously you agree. Come back soon. Any time."

The elder Jedi stood and hurried to the door as Obi-Wan rushed to catch up with him. Clearly Master Qui-Gon had a plan in mind. Mynarch had turned left and followed the street to an alleyway. He paused and looked back to see if he were being followed. Satisfied that no one was coming after, he ran down the alley. Qui-Gon had been watching through the barely opened door of the eatery. As the orange creature turned down the alley, he exited and started the pursuit.

"Do you think he's going to lead us to whatever Methone is involved in?" Obi-Wan quizzed as they hurried down the street.

"Probably not, at least not directly. This was a shot in the dark. The Malastarians have a lot of covert activities going on. He will lead us to one of them. I'm sure whatever we find out will be useful." Qui-Gon stopped and peeked around the corner of a building at the alley entrance. Seeing no one, the two Jedi stepped cautiously into the passage and slowly began their way down it, watching every window, ledge, shadow for any movement or indication of a presence. After a couple hundred yards the alleyway split into 2 new passages, perpendicular to the one they had come down.

Evaluating the situation, Qui-Gon spoke, "I guess we split up here, Obi-Wan. Be cautious and be mindful."

"Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon padded down the narrow corridor, watching with his eyes and with the Force. He sensed nothing in the alley but kept following until he could be certain that Mynarch had not come this direction. Shortly the alley turned to the left ninety degrees. The Jedi crept up to the edge of the building and peered around the corner. He saw no one so he turned into the new path and started down it. There was a voice. Qui-Gon stopped and pressed himself back against the wall until he could decide from where the voice was coming. He listened and stretched out with his feelings also. Slowly he proceeded as he pressed against the wall and slid along it watching and listening. Then he came near a broken window and now could see the owner of the voice. Mynarch was talking to a much larger Malastarian seated behind a beat up desk, littered with data pads, holo vids and various other flotsam and jetsam. Mynarch was relating his encounter in the eatery to the brooding orange hulk.

"And I'm sure you weren't tempted for a moment to take that money," the rust colored mass sneered.

"Oh no, no! I'd never betray you—not even for money!"

Rusty stood and waddled around the desk to tower over Mynarch. "Your ability to lie is surpassed only by your inability to tell the truth," he sneered.

Then a loud noise startled Qui-Gon. He jumped and leaned back against the building. From somewhere further down the alleyway came a confusion of voices and then a command to keep quiet. Then it was silent. Momentarily the Jedi's attention was drawn from Mynarch and his large boss. He kept his back against the wall of the building and slid along it toward the noise he'd heard. As he got closer and closer he could heard scuffling noises and whispers. There was a break in the alleyway—a space between buildings. The Jedi would have to get past there to further investigate what was going on down there. He crept up and stole a glance around the building. That was a dead end and there didn't seem to be much of interest. He trotted past to the next building. The whispers were becoming normal conversational tones the closer he got. Another intersection. Qui-Gon again slowly approached and peered around the corner. There were a few Malastarians unloading a truck and on the loading dock stood—Methone.

The Jedi was surprised and wondered if there was any way Methone could have found out about his plans to come to Malastare. _More likely, my visit to his office spooked him about something and he came back to check on it._

The boxes being removed from the truck were nondescript…no labels, tags or identifying marks of any kind. They varied in size from a crate large enough to require two movers down to shoebox size. Intrigued by the whole circumstance, Qui-Gon watched and listened for any clue about what was going on. However, the only conversation was small talk and grumbling about the work. Occasionally Methone would rebuke or threaten a worker.

When the unloading was finished Methone and the workers disappeared behind the roll-up doors of the loading dock. Qui-Gon kept his place, listened and reached out with the Force. In a moment he heard knocking followed by a deep slow reply, "Come." He slipped around the edge of the building and looked into a window just in time to see Methone enter. The Jedi repositioned himself to see who had responded to the knock. He saw an elaborate office—much in contrast with the rest of the run down building. The room was painted bright yellow and contained ornate furniture of a design that Qui-Gon had never seen. Behind a large dark elaborate desk the Jedi saw Methone's summoner—a large green shapeless blob occupied the chair. The mass was covered with short green hair all over—making it look as if it were wearing a grass coat. When the creature moved it seemed to flow as its mass shifted and relocated from body area to body area. It didn't seem to have a distinct head because of the changing shape the creature exhibited. However, bright gold eyes set off its face. The contrast between the eyes and the shiny green fur added to the creature's odd appearance. The deep slow voice almost sounded like a humming noise as the being spoke. "You have finished unloading the supplies?"

"Yes, Ruka," Methone responded. "My men are putting them in your lab now."

"Good, good. Soon we will be ready to continue."

"Continue what?" Methone interjected. "I told you that your virus didn't work on the Jedi."

"Nonsense! The truth is you don't know what effect it had on him because you did not see him from the time of the injection until a couple of days ago. You don't know what happened in between."

"I do know that it didn't kill him—and that's what you said it would do," Methone's voice rose in anger.

The blob chuckled, sounding like a swarm of happy insects. "Politicians are always the same. You don't understand science. When one is involved in research that implies that one is studying the behavior and reaction of the substance under observation. I can't give you an absolute answer on something that is so new. This virus has not undergone test in a human before—this was its test."

Methone leaned roughly on the desk. He sputtered, trying to get his words out, "What! You didn't test it before we used it on the Jedi? You didn't tell me that!"

"You didn't allow me time to tell you. You have been in such a hurry for the virus that my people have not been able to follow the kind of planning and testing that we normally follow. The failure of the virus to accomplish its objective rests solely on your shoulders."

Methone was furious. Even Qui-Gon from his position outside could see the Malastarian's body quake with anger. However, he said not a word but merely turned from the creature and stared at the wall.

Too late, Qui-Gon became aware of a noise behind him. Before he could turn to investigate he felt something piercing the skin on the back of his arm. He quickly pulled away and whirled around to see what had happened. There stood another of the green hairy blobs, a smile on his face, and a syringe in his hand. The Jedi started to walk toward the creature, but a wave of dizziness overcame him and the last thing he saw was blackness encroaching on his field of view. Then his body slumped heavily to the ground.

Obi-Wan had been creeping down alleyway after alleyway. Investigating crooks and crannies and checking every noise he heard. He had encountered some locals, but they were engaged in minor infractions such as gambling, drinking, and the like. He kept going though, looking for any sign of Mynarch or any of the bigger covert activities that Qui-Gon had hinted at. Coming up dry did nothing to discourage the padawan. However, he realized he could be following the maze of allies in the city for a long time. So he decided that maybe he should contact Qui-Gon to see if he had come up with anything before they got any further from each other.

Ruka and Methone stood beside a gurney, which contained the unconscious Jedi master. They were discussing his future.

"Why, this couldn't be a more fortunate turn of events, Methone."

"What are you talking about?" Methone glanced nervously between the insensible knight and the Klastarian.

"You condemned me earlier for not testing the virus before we tried it." He waved a thick corpulent hand over the bed. "Now we have a test subject. And," Ruka rubbed his furry hands together, "we can try other things on him. He can be our resident guinea pig. You want us to come up with ways to eliminate the Jedi. An admirable goal. However, there is so much more we can learn also. Such as how to affect their Force abilities. The possibilities are many. And now we have a trial Jedi at our disposal! It's perfect!" His hummy laugh filled the room.

Methone's mouth fell open. "I don't like this at all. It's too risky. Obviously the Jedi are on to us or he wouldn't have come here. I don't think it's safe to keep him here. Someone will come looking for him. If he was able to find us, they will too."

Ruka clucked his tongue. "Methone, Methone, now I know why your race has the reputation it does. You really need to learn to take risks."

"I don't mind taking risks, but I prefer to take safer risks. This one is foolish. You don't know these Jedi. I do. I've had to deal with them before—which is why I'd rather they weren't around. Someone _will_ come looking for him and then where will we be when he is discovered here? It will be worse for me, being a representative from this planet to the Galactic Senate." Methone looked back at Qui-Gon. "No, no. It's too dangerous. I forbid it. We will take him far from here and dump him. We will not keep him."

The furry green Klastarian put his formless arm around Methone's shoulder. The Malastarian tried to duck away from the glob but he gripped Methone firmly. "Now let's not be hasty. Let's consider _all_ the facts. I was happy on my planet working in a lab on the cutting edge of medicine and genetics. Our race had advanced the knowledge in this area far beyond what any other race even understood. You sought me out. I did not approach you. You hired me to come to work for your organization. You took me away from a prestigious job that was rich with rewards—both intangible and…well, more tactile. You said you would make it worth my while. The equipment you have provided and the payment have properly compensated me. I am happy. Now you wish to end it. And what am I supposed to do?" His tone was not an angry one, more a condescending one. There was a reason for that…and Ruka was about to play his trump card.

"You are worried about what will happen if the Jedi is found here. I have another worry for you. What will you do if I go to your senate and tell them what you have hired me to do? What if I tell them of the virus?" Then Ruka gave his biggest, sweetest smile. "What if I tell them, not that you paid me for this, but that you kidnapped me and threatened me if I didn't cooperate?"

"What!" Methone sputtered. "That's not true! It's a lie and you know it!"

"Well, yes _I_ know it, but they don't. Don't you see how perfect it is, my friend? One of the Klastarians' top researchers disappears without a trace. No one knows where or why…until he shows up to accuse his kidnapper of assault and threats of death unless he cooperates. I didn't plan it this way, but the way we have gone about handling all this under the table has certainly put things in my favor."

Methone's three eyes had grown wider and wider during Ruka's boasts. He stammered and stuttered but couldn't string together a coherent sentence. Finally, in defeat, his shoulders slumped and his eyes fell closed and he simply turned away in silence.

"Ah, I thought maybe you would see it my way. Now, don't you worry yourself about anyone finding him here. We'll simply move him to our other building outside of town." Ruka produced a hypodermic filled with clear liquid.

"What's that?" Methone murmured.

"Oh, this is one of the first things I want to test on the Jedi. It's an interesting new drug I've synthesized. I'll tell you all about it once we reach the other building." Ruka plunged the needle into Qui-Gon's bared forearm and then smiled.

Qui-Gon lay on a bed of crisp white linens. He was stripped to the waist and strapped securely to the bed frame. Ruka was dismissing two of his assistants who had just finished fastening the last restraint.

"What are you going to do to him?" Methone asked nervously.

Ruka held up a vial of colorless fluid and chuckled. "My most recent achievement. It needs perfecting. That's what I hope our friend here can help us with. This drug affects mind and thought. It is hallucinogenic. You know what that means don't you? It causes the subject to have hallucinations—delusions of what he sees, feels and hears. He doesn't know if what is going on is real or in his mind."

"Bah, what good is that? Such drugs are in great supply. My organization sells them all over the galaxy." Methone turned and walked away.

"Ah, but this one is cyclic. It works for a period of time and then it turns itself off for a period of time. Also, it is long lasting. A dose can last a day rather than a few hours. The drug is addictive as well. You still don't understand the significance of all that, do you?"

Methone didn't speak but merely shook his head.

"My friend, we are talking mind control here. With the drug switching off and on, the Jedi won't ever be sure what is real and what he is imagining. We can intrude on his delusions and have power over them—bring people into contact with him or plunge him into the middle of an event. He'll have no idea what reality is. He will be totally reliant on us since we are in control of his drug supply and his world. His mind will be very malleable—we can get him to do anything!" Ruka laughed boisterously and his formless body responded with waves of motion ruffling his jade fur.

The apprentice had backtracked to the point at which he and Qui-Gon had split up. He began to follow the path his master had taken earlier and also reached out to the Force. Sensing nothing he took out his comm link and tried to connect that way, not realizing that the elder Jedi's communications device lay smashed into a hundred pieces on a warehouse floor not far away. It was quite late in the day and would be dark soon. Obi-Wan was worried because he couldn't make contact with Qui-Gon. He was wary of the Malastarians and was convinced that Mynarch must have led the Jedi into a trap. If that were true, then it would not be safe to be running the alleyways in the dark where they would have the shadows to hide them and help them. As reluctant as he was to leave the area, Obi-Wan decided the best way he could help his master was to stay free and healthy enough to find him. So resolving, he turned to leave—until the morning.

Qui-Gon slowly opened his eyes. He was looking up at a dingy, water-stained ceiling. For a moment he couldn't tell how far away it was. His mind was confused and seemed to have trouble processing the information that was being fed into it. It wasn't until he tried to sit up that he realized that he couldn't move. His slow responding wits were attempting to decide why. Qui-Gon didn't know why he was having so much trouble thinking. He closed his eyes and tried to connect to the Force. He knew he had felt it, but he was having trouble maintaining his hold on it. He opened his eyes again and looked around the dim room. His vision was blurred so he couldn't make out details, only some shadows about the room. Feeling tired from the effort, he let his head drop back to the pillow. _What is wrong with me? Where am I?_

The Jedi tried to remember where he was before everything went black. There was something about a green furball…but that's all he could remember. Turning his head to look at his unmovable hand, he finally realized that something was restraining him. Qui-Gon tried to focus his strength for a solid pull at whatever was holding him back, but once again his concentration wouldn't stay fixed and he only managed a weak tug. Frustrated and confused he finally just let his entire body go limp. He decided instead of wasting the physical exertion, he would put his energies into reaching the Force. As soon as he started searching for it, however, a foreign feeling washed over his body. Startled by the strange sensation, his eyes snapped open. There floating over him was a translucent white shape. It contracted and expanded and seemed to emit a melodic undulating tone in rhythm with the movements. It was like nothing the Jedi had even seen before and he was so enchanted by it he could think of nothing else. He even found himself humming along with the music the cloud made. Something in the back of his mind was trying to get his attention but he hadn't the strength or the desire to fight against the pull the mysterious vapor had on him.

How long he lay there mesmerized by the luminous swirl he couldn't say but he didn't mind. It was so relaxing…so restful…so peaceful. His eyelids were very heavy and the Jedi didn't know how much longer he could hold them open. But then the object began to change. It became less transparent. The color darkened to a diseased looking reddish black tone. Even though it was still in a state of change, Qui-Gon began to feel very afraid of it. No amount of control he tried to exert over his emotions would bring them to heel. Something was interfering with his control, with his strength, with his mind. Fear continued to build in him and he couldn't stop it. Suddenly the red-black object became a solid leering face. There were razor sharp fangs jutting from ebony lips and dripping with blood. The maw snapped open and suddenly the head dived at Qui-Gon. In total horror the Jedi shrieked at the top of his lungs.

Obi-Wan jerked up to a sitting position in his bed. Instantly he knew something was wrong, but it took him a moment to wake up enough to realize what had roused him. He had heard a cry of sheer horror—but not here in the room. It had been in his head that he had heard it. And he realized immediately who it had been. The padawan settled himself in the middle of the bed and relaxed as he reached out to the Force. He was seeking Master Qui-Gon. He had to concentrate on finding his presence and let go of the horrible shout he had sensed. There was that familiar feeling from the bond he had with his master. But he couldn't link with him. All he could perceive was confusion, fear, images that didn't make sense, feelings he'd never felt from his master before. No matter how much he tried he couldn't get any kind of acknowledgement from Qui-Gon that he even recognized Obi-Wan was trying to connect with him. The emotions and images were so intense that Obi-Wan finally had to pull back to keep from being overwhelmed himself. His eyes popped open and he was in a cold sweat.

Something awful was wrong with Master Qui-Gon but he had no idea what or where his master was. He stood and paced the room a couple of times. Looking out the window he could see the gold and orange tint of sunrise beginning to show on the horizon. He quickly dressed. He would try again to link with Qui-Gon and as soon as there was a little more light, he would be off to renew his search.

Qui-Gon's scream had disturbed others besides his apprentice. Ruka and Methone had come straight away at the sound.

"It must have just been a reaction to an hallucination. There's nothing wrong with him."

"Nothing wrong?" Methone replied doubtfully. "Just look at him. He looks awful. How can you say there's nothing wrong?"

"Oh, that," Ruka waved dismissively. "Not to worry, my friend. It's natural to see physical effects from drugs—especially hallucinogens. There's nothing wrong with him that will deprive us of our test subject."

Methone rubbed his chin nervously. He found it hard to believe the Klastarian. The Jedi looked ashen and was barely breathing. It's true he had wanted to see his arch nemesis dead, but this was a little too close to home for him. The Malastarian was desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this situation.

"What are we going to do about his apprentice?" Methone whined. "He's sure to come looking for his master."

"His apprentice?" Ruka replied with great disinterest.

"Yes, the master always travels with his apprentice. This Jedi's tyro is just as persistent as he is."

"Hmm." Ruka rubbed his hand at a spot beneath his gleaming golden eyes. "Well, I guess we'll have to send someone to scare him off."

"Ha!" Finally Methone was feeling like the superior. "You know nothing of Jedi. They don't scare. Their loyalty is fierce. The learner will not leave without discovering what has become of his teacher. You will feel the power of the Force before you scare this boy off."

"Well…we haven't much choice then. If he can't be scared off we can make him think his master is dead, kill him, or…we could bring him into our volunteer program also." His golden eyes shined with delight over that thought.

"No! Absolutely not! I forbid it! You are endangering us enough by holding the one Jedi. And don't start threatening me. I can either get in trouble by your telling the Senate about this, or I can get in trouble for being caught in the act. Either way I suffer. You can't scare me with that. And we will not kill him either." Methone's fear of Ruka was over ridden by his desire for self-preservation. He crossed to the Klastarian and leaned close. "Enough! I do have a say-so in this. We will come up with a way to make the boy think his master is dead. Until we figure out the best way to do that, I will send someone to distract him."

"Figure out how to do it? All we need is a body."

"Yes, but we need a _human_ body. Those are in rare supply on Malastare."

The next time Qui-Gon was aware of his surroundings, the room had lightened considerably. Someone had uncovered a window and the bright sunlight flowed in. He was still groggy and weary. The memory of the terrible apparition of the night came back to him. It had seemed so real. Was it? It seemed that even when he felt like he was awake and aware, his feelings and thoughts seemed distance. Was he really awake last night or did he dream the horrid face and the white cloud? Was he awake now? He thought he was, but he couldn't really feel the bed under him—like he was floating. So, he must still be asleep. He was so confused by his feelings that he wasn't sure.

The door opened and in flowed Ruka. He came over to the bed and studied the Jedi. Qui-Gon studied him. Was this real? But he did remember having seen a green blob before, didn't he? He had a memory, but was that a memory of an actual encounter or a memory of a dream? The Jedi was becoming very frustrated with this whole situation.

"How are you feeling, Jedi?" the Klastarian hummed.

Qui-Gon was surprised when the creature addressed him. He didn't think memories talked. But maybe dreams did. "Not good," he rasped out.

"Ah, I forgot. You humans need water. Yes, I'll get that for you. Well, did we have any interesting dreams last night?"

Since when did dreams ask about dreams Qui-Gon absently wondered. _Maybe this isn't a dream then. Maybe this one is real._ "Where am I?"

"You are somewhere safe. Don't worry. We'll take care of you. We won't let those nasty monsters get you. I'm here to keep them away. And you'll show me how much you appreciate it by doing me a favor, won't you?"

_What? Monsters? This must be a dream. _Qui-Gon was too busy trying to figure out what was going on and said absently, "Uh…yeah…sure."

"Good. I knew you would see things my way. Now, don't you worry about anything. I'll go get you that water and something to eat. We're going to take good care of you," Ruka crooned as if to a child. Then he flowed back out the door.

As he closed the door he addressed Methone. "See? I told you it would work well. He's so confused he doesn't know if I'm a dream or not. That's why I didn't want you to go in there. He knows you—and if your relationship has been as stormy as you say…then that might spark some recognition in his mind. The drug is affecting his brain function and confusing him. The hallucinations will add to that. When he is aware of his environment, then it's up to us to make sure his surroundings are as unusual as we can to keep him confused."

"I have to say I'm impressed so far, Ruka."

"So far?"

"Yes. You've only proved you can confuse him. You haven't yet proved that you can control him."

Meanwhile, Qui-Gon was still trying to figure out what was real and what was a product of his baffled mind. The light coming in the window was so bright. He had to turn his head away because his eyes were tearing. He wasn't sure if it was better to have the sunlight or not. If this creature was going to take care of him, why was he strapped down? Didn't that make him a prisoner? But his voice was so soothing…so reassuring. _Wait! Think! There's something about that green creature. Don't I remember something bad about him?_ He tried to concentrate on the shape to see if the memory would come forth.

_Oh! The Force. I forgot about the Force. I need to try to connect with it._ Qui-Gon closed his heavy eyelids and, already being quite relaxed, sought out the Force. He had done this so many times it was easy to make that link, but his fuzzy brain refused to concentrate on one thing for long and he couldn't maintain contact with it. Nevertheless he tried calling out through it to his padawan. Maybe he could get something through to Obi-Wan. Then it was gone…he could no longer feel the presence of the Force.

His body threatened to retreat back into sleep. However, the Jedi fought it. If he was going to find out what was going on and why he was having so much trouble thinking, then he needed to stay alert for awhile. He opened his eyes wide and looked around to study the environment. It was chilly in the room. The air movement due to the ventilation system was cool across his bare chest and a shiver ran through him. He thought back to the last time he was aware…it was hot then…wasn't it? It seemed like it. He remembered being glad he didn't have on his Jedi robe at the time. But he just couldn't recall completely the reason for that.

None of this made sense. Greenie said he was going to take care of him…didn't he? Or was that a dream? Or worse, something his deluded brain invented. He had seen the furry blob a couple of times. But that didn't mean it still couldn't be an invented being. Sighing deeply in frustration, Qui-Gon struggled to find something he could remember that was solid, cold, hard reality. It eluded him though. It all flowed together and apart. Green blobs, orange wrinkled beings, red and black horror faces, white luminous clouds. The cloud…ah, the cloud. How beautiful it had been—and the music. The most striking melody he had ever heard. He could hear the song now just as if it were being played in the room. The notes rose and fell, reaching a crescendo then plunging to the valley of pianissimo. The Jedi could almost feel himself floating with the music, rising and falling. He was so moved by the song that the upsurging notes brought him to the peaks of ecstasy, only to be slammed onto the reefs of despair as the music dropped to pathos. Qui-Gon was surprised to find himself weeping uncontrollably with the roiling rhythm.

Ruka had returned and was studying the Jedi through the partially opened door, Methone straining to stare over his hairy shoulder.

"The drug does that?" the Malastarian asked in quiet awe.

"Yes. Now you show the proper respect instead of comparing my creation with common street drugs," Ruka hummed in approval. "Now observe further." He entered the room, indicating Methone should remain at the door.

"Qui-Gon," he musically hummed as he leaned over the whimpering Jedi. "Qui-Gon, what is wrong?" He tried to sound as compassionate as he could while he gently tickled the Jedi's cheek with his furry hand.

"The music," Qui-Gon sobbed. "The music…"

"You don't like it?"

"No, it hurts, make it go away."

"Of course, of course." Ruka raised his hummy voice in a new song, a merry lively song. At once the master changed his demeanor. He smiled and looked randomly around the room, watching notes floating in the air that his keepers couldn't see.

"You like that?" the Klastarian gently asked.

"Oh, yes," Qui-Gon murmured in happiness.

"You don't want the painful music to come back?"

"No, no!" he shook his head vigorously.

"Ruka will take care of you. Ruka won't let the music come back. I will sing happy songs to you. Do you see the song I sing?" He once more sang the spirited song that had cheered the Jedi.

"Yes!" Qui-Gon was again watching notes floating through the air that were visible only to his drug affected brain.

"Then you must do as Ruka asks you. You'll do that, won't you? If you do then I'll make sure the bad music stays away." The Klastarian was talking in a soft, gentle voice, as to a child. Now, however, his tone took on a shade of sternness. "If you don't mind, if you are bad then Ruka will be bad to you. The bad music will come back."

"No, no," the Jedi was almost trembling. The effect of the drug on his system and the effect of the hallucinations on his mind were stealing Qui-Gon's ability to resist and his control. The manipulations of Ruka were stealing his resolve. True to what the Klastarian had predicted the Jedi master was becoming like putty in his hands. He turned to the amazed Malastarian at the door and merely smiled.

Obi-Wan had been on his way back to the alleyway where he and Qui-Gon had split up yesterday when he suddenly felt something inside. He stopped and stepped into a space between buildings to concentrate on what was happening. He thought that he had heard his name called—but just the one time and then it was gone. The apprentice stretched out to the Force and listened again. Nothing. He tried to link with his master. He could feel that familiar presence but he couldn't sense that recognizable well-order logical mind that was the Jedi master. There was instead confusion, turmoil, and intense sorrow. It was almost too much for the padawan to tolerate—so intense were the feelings he was receiving. He was tempted to break the link but chose to endure instead. If he could find out anything that would help him locate Qui-Gon then he had to try. Suddenly the deep grief he had been aware of changed to elation. The change had been so quick and complete that Obi-Wan thought he had lost the connection he had established…but, no, that was still his master. He was even more confused by this turn of events. As he pondered over this and tried to decide what to do next, a sound interrupted his musings. He whirled around, his hand on the hilt of his light saber, to see a Malastarian standing there.

"Did you want something?" he asked cautiously.

The Malastarian bore the peach coloring of the younger members of the race. He looked around and crept up to the young Jedi. He spoke in a whisper, "You and your friend were looking for someone yesterday."

In his mind an alarm seemed to sound. The apprentice was immediately wary. "What do you know about that? You weren't there."

"No," he readily agreed then looked around again. "But I know someone who was. Someone who wants to help you find who you are looking for."

Obi-Wan considered for a moment while at the same time listening to his feelings. He decided to follow this for a bit, until he could figure out what was going on anyway. "OK. Who do you speak for?"

Another glance around, then leaning close, "Someone who doesn't want to see Methone get what he wants."

"What does Methone want?"

"Control, power. He wants this planet and he wants this planet out of the Republic. He wants all outworlders off Malastare. He wants Malastare to belong to Malastarians, so he says. What he really wants is Malastare for him. He knows that outworlders wouldn't want him in control because he wants our planet to take care of itself. No more trade or imports. He is slowly eliminating his opposition."

_Including Jedi_ Obi-Wan thought ruefully. "That sounds reasonable," he said while keeping his doubts to himself. "How do you know who I am looking for?"

"Every one knows Methone's hate for Jedi. We…just assumed…you were looking for him."

"Hmm. And how do you propose to help me?"

Once again the Malastarian looked around and then pulled further back into the space. In the lowest whisper he could manage and still be heard he said, "I know Methone has your friend."

The alarm that had been sounding in the apprentice's mind was now a claxon. _Be wary, be alert_ he cautioned himself.

"How do you know?"

"We have eyes everywhere." The tri-eyed creature stared at Obi-Wan. "We know the movements of our enemies. I know where your friend is."

Obi-Wan studied the face before him as he thought over the logic of what he was hearing and balancing that against what he felt. This would lead either to the Jedi…or to a trap. He was still inclined to go along with it…for the time being. Even if it was a trap, he might yet be able to find out where Master Qui-Gon was. "All right. I'll trust you. Where do we go from here?"

The hallucination had passed leaving the Jedi fatigued and he had drifted off in to a restless and dream-filled sleep. The slumber was short lived however. Again the master found himself awaking slowly and still not clear of mind. He could tell it was later in day from the angle of the light streaming in the window. Exactly how much later he couldn't even guess. He couldn't even be sure of what had been transpiring when he was last awake. Images and feelings swam through his mind, merging and transmuting. Sounds had smells and smells became colors. Qui-Gon tried to direct his concentration on something outside of his confused mind. He observed the room, focusing on the details of it—not that there were many. It was a small room constructed of some type of stone material. The walls were bare and there were no furnishings aside from the bed he was still restrained to. The Jedi noticed that he had been able to keep his mind on the room for a couple of minutes without the strange feelings and peculiar images invading. This was encouraging. He used the opportunity to examine the straps holding him to the bed frame. His only hope of escape lay in trying to find a way to loosen them. Then he lay back and reached out to the Force. Though his link wasn't strong, at least he seemed able to maintain it a little longer this time. First he tried to unfasten the restraints, but found his control too weak. As he felt himself slip away from the comfort of the Force he put all his available resources into one final burst of energy and in his mind yelled out one thing. _Obi-Wan!_

The Malastarian had been leading Obi-Wan down an alleyway when suddenly the padawan felt what he would have compared to a kick in the head. He was caught so far off guard by the last thing he expected that he found himself reaching out to the wall to steady himself. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Concentrating he called out to Master Qui-Gon several times but there was no response of any kind. In frustration he pushed himself away from the building and opened his eyes. The young creature was just staring at the apprentice. Watching and waiting, saying nothing until his eyes fluttered open.

"Is something wrong? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing. Let's get going."

Qui-Gon could feel the odd feelings beginning to descend on him again. He tried to fight against it but to no avail. He had already spent all his effort and hadn't the strength to resist. The ray of light streaming through the window began to undulate, up and down, like a wave rising and falling on the sea. Then it began to rotate as it waved, each face a different color. Blue, red, green, yellow, orange, pink, purple, stripes, polka dots, stars. The stars leapt from the beam and scattered around the room. As they impacted the walls, ceiling, and floor, each one burst into an explosion of light and sound. The sound of glass breaking as each point of light burst like a miniature bomb. The shards of light rolled on the floor and joined into a large ball of blinding light. Qui-Gon shut his eyes against it but to no avail. It was so bright that he could see it through his eyelids. He tried to put his hands up to shield his eyes, forgetting he was still bound. He twisted and turned his head away from the small sun that had formed in his room. Then suddenly it dimmed. Cautiously the Jedi opened his eyes. The light was gone. As he struggled to understand what had happened he found that his thoughts had begun roiling, twisting, and merging again. Qui-Gon couldn't decide if the star had really been there or if he had dreamed it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt panic that the visions were starting again, but that was quickly overwhelmed and he soon wondered if that was a real thought or something he remembered from a dream.

He closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the unsettling visions he was having, but that didn't stop them since they were in his mind. He couldn't figure that out though. A dark mist arose from the opposite corner of the room. Even with his eyes shut tight he could see the room and the strange apparition. He turned his head to escape it but it was still there. The mist became darker and thicker until it formed into a solid object. A large dark figure leered at the helpless Jedi. It filled the corner from floor to ceiling. Blood red eyes blazed from deep-set sockets. Its limbs hung to the floor—long arms with stubby fingers tipped with extended razor sharp claws. The creature had teeth that looked like spikes embedded in black gums. Every sharp surface on the monster dripped with thick sweet smelling blood. It leered at Qui-Gon as it began stumbling in his direction. The Jedi used every bit of his feeble strength to battle against his bonds, to no avail. There was no escape for him from the ogre that was bearing down on him. He tried to control his fear, to contain it—but he had no control left. The Jedi master began to yell in terror as the huge black mound crossed the floor.

At once the door swung open and the black nightmare disappeared. In its place stood a large green grass monster. Fear filled Qui-Gon until he remembered he had seen this creature before. Yes! This was the one who had helped him before. But if the walking grass mound was going to take care of Qui-Gon, why was he being held prisoner? That seemed to lose importance as the Jedi remembered the song the creature had sung to him before. It was beautiful, wasn't it? The fear began to melt away as he remembered the soft hummy sound.

"My friend," Ruka crooned softly. "Are you having another nightmare?" Qui-Gon nodded mutely. "Tsk, tsk," he clucked. "That's too bad. Would you like me to make it go away?"

The Jedi nodded vigorously and the Klastarian began his song again. The master could feel himself relaxing as the melody filled the air. He closed his eyes and just listened. The song seemed to emanate color and this delighted him. Suddenly the pleasant tune stopped. Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open as he dreaded that the black creature would be back. But no. Just Greenie, surrounded by mists which gathered into small dots and fell to the floor in drops of various colors.

"You told me earlier that you would do nice things for me if I would do nice things for you. Do you remember that?" Ruka intoned. The Jedi nodded and Ruka smiled. "OK. I must make sure you'll keep your word. Do you understand? I must make sure you really will do nice things for me." Then more severely, "If you don't do as I say, then the bad things will come back."

"No!" Qui-Gon rasped.

"Good. OK. Don't worry. Ruka will take care of you." He flowed over to the bed. "I'm going to let you loose but you must promise not to try to run—or the bad things will come for you."

"I promise," he whispered.

"Good." Ruka released the four restraints that bound each of Qui-Gon's limbs to the bed frame. Slowly the Jedi pushed himself into a sitting position. He was very stiff from being bound for so long. He rubbed and gently stretched his limbs. His arms seemed to increase in length as he stretched them. The puzzled look on the master's face told Ruka that another hallucination was trying to take over. So he began the song again. A smile twitched at his lips as Qui-Gon relaxed and closed his eyes.

The Jedi reveled in the notes and colors that surrounded him. He would do anything for Greenie if he would just always be there to make everything better with his wonderful buzzing music. Just as suddenly as it started, it ceased. His drug-flooded brain was disappointed and sought to please the bringer of the good music.

"Now, you must demonstrate to me that you will be nice to me, because I have been nice to you." Ruka extended a blaster to the Jedi. Qui-Gon slowly stood to his feet and accepted the weapon. "Kill him," Ruka pointed at an orange creature standing at the door.

Methone screamed, "NO!" and tried to back away. Out of nowhere appeared two more Klastarians who held him in his place.

Qui-Gon raised the blaster and aimed it. His finger trembled on the trigger. Some where in his memory something was screaming at him that it was wrong to do this. _Don't kill!_ He hesitated.

Ruka observed the reaction and then prodded. "Do you want the bad things to come back? Do you remember the bad music?"

The music was there in Qui-Gon's head as soon as Ruka finished the sentence. He felt overwhelmed with grief. He so badly wanted to hear the good music again.

"What else have you heard and seen?" Ruka taunted. "Have you seen monsters in the night? Evil monsters who want to hurt you?" He had heard none of this from Qui-Gon but it was a safe bet based on things he had heard about effects of other hallucinogens. And he had hit the nail squarely on the head.

"No!" Qui-Gon rasped as the vision of the black creature filled his mind—and the red and black face from last night. He pressed his eyelids together tightly, trying to shut out the offending images and the fear that he had experienced from them. He put his hand to his head as it began to ache from the tension. "No, no. Make it stop. You said you'd take care of me," he implored the big jade blob. Ruka hummed a few notes and then stopped. "No! Don't stop! You promised." Qui-Gon's shoulders slumped as frustration and fear flooded him.

"You promised too," Ruka said simply.

Without taking time to think about what he was doing, the Jedi master raised the blaster and fired. Methone screamed…and his screamed continued. The two Klastarians had pulled him out of the line of fire just as Qui-Gon fired. He lay on the floor trembling and sobbing. Seeing that his quarry was still alive, the Jedi raised the blaster in preparation for his second shot. Ruka reached out and pulled the weapon from Qui-Gon's hand.

"It's all right," he soothed. "You have done well."

"He…he's still alive," Qui-Gon stammered.

"Yes. I didn't really want you to kill him. This was a test to see if you would keep your promise. You did. Ruka will take care of you now." He helped the Jedi master back to bed. Qui-Gon collapsed on it. Ruka began the song again. He got softer…softer…quieter. Soon Qui-Gon was sound asleep.

By this time Methone had gathered his wits and was waiting in the hallway for Ruka. He leaned into the Klastarian's face and yelled, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Shhhh!" Ruka rebuked him. "Don't wake him. Let's go down the hallway to talk."

"What was that all about? How dare you try to kill me like that!"

"I wasn't trying to kill you. I had no intention of killing you."

"Then what…"

Ruka interrupted, "It was a test to see if he is malleable enough. As you so readily reminded me I had not demonstrated yet whether I could control him. Now I have. He obeys me."

Ruka stood and glared at the Klastarian as he huffed and puffed in anger. As fearful as he was, he nevertheless would probably attack Ruka if his two assistants weren't still around. He correctly guessed that was Ruka's revenge for his remark earlier. Knowing that trading words with the Klastarian would accomplish nothing, the Malastarian turned and stomped away as he tried to figure a way out of this mess.

Obi-Wan had been so strongly distracted by what he had been receiving from the Force that he had lost track of exactly where the Malastarian had been leading him. But now he was becoming aware of a new sensation from the Force…one that made him stop and take a new look at his surroundings.

"Wait!" he blurted out, coming to a sudden halt.

"Yes?" the creature replied nonchalantly.

"I recognize this area. This is part of what I searched yesterday and I know that Qui-Gon isn't here—because _I_ was here."

With the slightest hesitation, the young being abruptly turned and continued on his way. "I know nothing about that. I only know where your friend is."

The apprentice grabbed the Malastarian by the shoulder and twirled him around. He backed him against the alleyway wall and spoke slowly and deliberately. "I don't believe you. You are leading me away from Qui-Gon. I searched this area yesterday and he went the opposite direction." Obi-Wan leaned close and stared into the now unsettled face. "I'm right, aren't I? You are misleading me."

"No, no," he replied quickly. "Truly, this is the way to find your friend. Methone moved him to a warehouse just down the alley."

"No. There are no warehouses in the area, only small buildings." The Jedi put his arm across the being's chest and leaned against him in a show of strength. "Where are you really taking me? I warn you, I'm tired of this wild goose chase. I suggest you come up with some new answers…or we'll have to see what can be done to get the truth." He could feel the Malastarian tremble slightly beneath his arm. That was enough to convince him that his suspicion was correct. The young male didn't answer right away.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"I…I told you the truth," he stammered. "Your friend is just down the alleyway," he added quickly.

"Who do you really work for? For Mynarch, for Methone?" Another shudder ran through the Malastarian. A smirk crossed the apprentice's face. "You're not a good liar, are you? Do you want to try again? The truth this time."

The orange creature had lowered his head and was searching the ground as if the answer lay there. "What can I do to convince you I'm telling you the truth? All we have to do is go to the building and you can see for yourself." The tremor in his voice was becoming more noticeable with each sentence he uttered. 

"See what for myself? That you are the bait to lure me to a trap? I'm tired of being your fool. You do know where Qui-Gon is, but it isn't here. You will tell me where he is or…" The words were aching familiar to the padawan. Abruptly a painful memory washed over him. The garden on Janorda. His encounter with Kelal. He'd said the same words before he had drawn his light saber and threatened to kill the governor. He had been trying to let his anger drive him in his attempt to intimidate the governor and it had gone too far. He had loosed all his emotional controls and let his anger take over. And…he had come dangerously close to killing Kelal. The memory stung Obi-Wan with shame and remorse. That helped temper the anger he felt now. He was in control of himself right now…but he could still intimidate the Malastarian. Checking his feelings one more time to make sure he had his anger and hate in tight rein, the apprentice pulled his light saber and ignited it. "I'll kill you right now," he said in a calm, controlled voice…_knowing _he had not the intention of harming the being. This was cold, calculated intimidation driven not by hate, but by a clear mind. The padawan almost smiled with his victory over the inner turmoil that had never really left him since that moment on Janorda.

The Malastarian, however, had no idea what was going on inside Obi-Wan's head. He only saw a flickering blue light pointing at him…too close for his comfort. The slight tremble had become a full-fledged quivering now. The apprentice knew he had won this battle too.

"Ok, Ok," the Malastarian pleaded. "Please…don't hurt me. I was doing what I was paid to do. Please don't hurt me."

Obi-Wan stepped back and lowered the light saber. "I won't hurt you. I just want to know where my friend is."

The being looked around and then whispered, "Not here. We must go some place not so well known."

Obi-Wan looked around at the abandoned, deserted alley confused. It didn't look well known to him. But he decided to follow the young male…for the moment. He tried to put what he had sensed before from Qui-Gon out of his mind and concentrate more on here and now. It had almost gotten him in trouble. Qui-Gon's words echoed in his brain. _Concentrate on the moment._

Qui-Gon awoke and was surprised to find himself lying on his side. He looked around and confirmed that he was no longer bound to the bed. He tried to think back…to remember when the restraints had been removed. He vaguely remembered the green creature taking the bindings off. It dawned on the Jedi that he was lucid. His mind was still fuzzy and confused, but for the moment he could think rationally without the weird images confounding his ability to put thoughts together. Immediately he realized that he needed to try to escape now—while he had his wits about him, before the strange visions returned. He rose slowly from the bed, still stiff and sore. There were only two ways out…the door and the window. He padded to the door and tried it. Not surprisingly it was locked.

The window looked like an easy enough way out. He could break it and be away. There was nothing in the room save for the bed—nothing to use to break the glass. _I'll just kick it out_ he told himself. Before he left the door, he listened to see if he could tell how much traffic there was in the hallway. He was certain that the shattering glass would attract attention. He could hear nothing through the door. Was that because of the construction of the door or the lack of activity outside the door? There was no way for the Jedi to know…and no time to ponder it. _I have to get away while I have my awareness._

Qui-Gon crossed to the window and heaved a strong kick at the middle of the pane. It gave at once, shattering into hundreds of pieces…just as the stars had shattered into shards of light in his room earlier he thought and then quickly over rode the thought, lest he encourage the strange vision to return. After knocking the remaining pieces of glass from the window frame with his booted foot, Qui-Gon vaulted through the window and took off at a dead run.

The Malastarian had taken Obi-Wan to a small decrepit vehicle that he had scrounged up to run errands in. Thus he made his living, being a go-fer mostly for the illicit activities that filled the alleyways they were just leaving. The being gave a last look back to see who might be watching him leave with the Jedi and then sped away.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan asked suspiciously.

"To your friend," the Malastarian answered without looking.

"I'm warning you…"

He interrupted, "Really. I am taking you to where he really is. I can't take you all the way…not without putting myself in danger. You can kill me if you want it doesn't matter. I will end up dead either way."

"I don't want to kill you," Obi-Wan replied softly. "I just want to find my friend. He needs my help."

The Malastarian looked at the apprentice for a moment and then affirmed, "You are right. He does need your help."

Even though the padawan already knew Qui-Gon was in trouble, hearing it acknowledged still quickened his pulse. "What has happened to him?"

"That I do not know. They only told me as much as they could afford."

"Who are 'they'?" Obi-Wan quizzed.

"Methone and who ever he's working with."

"I don't understand. If you are working for Methone, why did you tell me he had Qui-Gon?"

"Methone thought you already knew that and he hired me to lure you away from where your friend is being held. I was supposed to, how did you say, lead you on a wild bird chase while Methone and his colleagues moved your friend."

Obi-Wan smiled at the Malastarian's attempt to use the colloquialism. "Move him? Where?" 

"Where we are going now. Outside the city. Methone thought there would be less chance of being seen outside the city."

"You can tell me nothing of what he is doing?"

"No, he just told me that he needed you out of the way while he and…what was his name…Ruma, Rusa…moved your friend out of town. I was hired to mislead you. What they are doing I have no idea. I just know he is very fearful of being caught at what he is doing. He acted very scared."

"How much further?"

"Not far now."

Qui-Gon was picking his way through a small community of buildings. What this had once been he had no idea, but most of the buildings were abandoned. A shiver ran through his body. He had not seen his tunic or robe in the room where he was, so he was running around still stripped to the waist and the chilly air was beginning to nip at him. Also, Qui-Gon could feel his mind beginning to lose focus again. He noticed it when the ground seemed to begin to rise and fall beneath his feet. Then bizarre shaped objects began to float in front of him. He knew it was a matter of minutes before he would be under the sway of the apparitions again so he was trying to find a place to hide himself while he was still lucid enough to know if he had a good hiding place or not.

Meanwhile, Ruka and Methone had returned to the Jedi's former prison for a look at their subject and to renew his dose of the hallucinogen. Ruka turned the key and swung the door open.

"Now, my friend, we…" he stopped as soon as he saw the busted window. "What!" he roared.

Methone enjoyed the moment; he had to admit it. Even though he knew that the escaped Jedi was a danger to him also, he was becoming quickly tired of this bloated arrogant green hairball. He had to cover his mouth to suppress the smile he could feel tugging up the corners of his lips.

"How could this happen?" he growled as he whirled toward the Malastarian.

Methone took a step backwards and blurted out, "It's your own fault! Remember? _You_ are the one who removed the restraints."

Ruka just stood and quivered as the anger traveling through his body made his gelatinous form roil and churn. The Klastarian's anger built as he realized he could blame this mistake on no one else.

"He…he…promised me he wouldn't try to get away," he sputtered.

"Oh, and he broke his promise!" Methone could no longer contain his sarcasm. "I guess you couldn't control him as well as you thought," he said in triumph.

Ruka stormed toward the door, shoving Methone against the wall. The strength of the push caused the Malastarian to rebound and fall to the floor. Still, through the pain of the impact, he couldn't contain his pleasure at seeing the great Ruka brought to the level of mere mortals.

Obi-Wan and the Malastarian had driven to the edge of a wooded area and hidden the vehicle. The being led Obi-Wan a short distance through the forested parcel. Stopping at the edge of the tree line, the young male pointed to a gathering of buildings a few hundred feet away. "That's where your friend is being held."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. This is where Methone told me to come and pick up the rest of my money. Methone is here at least."

"OK. Good enough. Thank you for your help." The apprentice pressed some credits into the Malastarian's hand. He shot Obi-Wan a surprised look.

"You risked yourself to come here…and you gave up part of your earnings. It's the least I can do."

"But I brought you here under duress. I don't understand."

"It doesn't matter. Just try to see if you can find a better way to make a living. Now go before anyone sees you."

The creature didn't need a second urging. He was gone immediately. Soon Obi-Wan heard the far away sound of the vehicle engine starting. He started picking his way through the brush and scrub, trying to stay out of sight, as he approached the collection of rough buildings.

Qui-Gon had crawled into a deserted flat and managed to hide himself in a closet before he lost himself to the visions again. Rainbows and suns and stars danced before his eyes. Lights and beams glimmered and shined. Small glowing cherubs flew about him, waving and singing to him. He reached out and one of them took his hand, pulling him into their dance. He looked around and saw that he was floating in the air, pirouetting, and flying with the angels. Then they flew higher and higher, leaving him behind. A great sadness washed over him as he longed to go with them. He strove and struggled to go up with the prancing fairies, but to no avail. A great heaviness enveloped him as he settled back to the floor. When he looked up again, they were all gone and it was dark and quiet. He missed them and wished they would come back. Then he remembered the hummy song Greenie had sung to him and he began to sing it. The notes flowed and gathered around him, piling up in heaps as they floated from the air and settled to the ground. Fascinated he kept singing and singing as the notes collected in drifts. He reached to touch them while he absently stopped singing and the notes melted away swiftly.

There was a noise. The Jedi was instantly afraid. He gathered himself into ball, lying on his side, his knees drawn to his chin. There was the noise again and he whimpered. Qui-Gon had no idea what the noise was and didn't know why he was afraid…he just was. The noise was closer. He refused to look. But since his drugged brain was in control, it forced him to see what it was creating. The door opened and a large dark object filled the doorframe. Qui-Gon scooted toward the back of the closet. The black shape entered and a light, from where he couldn't be sure, dimly lit the face. It was the hideous black-red face from the other night. Blood dripped from its fangs as it gapped open the ebony maw to release a hideous shriek of laughter. The Jedi pressed himself against the back wall of the closet as hard as he could and covered his head with his hands. The nightmare came closer and closer as Qui-Gon pressed back harder and harder. Still it came and there was no where else he could go. With all his might he released a terror filled scream.

The noise so filled all of Obi-Wan's consciousness that he fell to his knees and clamped his hands to his stunned head. _Master!_ Immediately he got to his feet and ran the last few feet to the nearest building. He leaned against it as he called out to Qui-Gon. _Master! Master! Where are you?_ It was of no avail, however. At the moment, Qui-Gon lay in the back of the closet unconscious, shivering while sweat ran off his face.

The furious Klastarian had ordered his men to start searching the commune. While he awaited word, he stormed up and down his office, cursing anyone and anything that came to mind—especially that blasted Jedi…and that idiot Methone. _How dare he laugh at me! Yes, I made a mistake, but that fool couldn't think his way out of a wet sack. Just wait! After I deal with that Jedi, then Methone will have his turn. Should it be a slow suffering death or a quick one? I think he should suffer until he gets on his knees and begs my forgiveness and then I will personally kill him._ The thought gave him great pleasure and actually brought a smile to the fuming Ruka. He thought to have one of his men find the Malastarian before Methone decided to leave.

And Ruka wasn't far wrong. Methone knew that everything was falling apart…the so-called test program, his deal with the Klastarians…it all was coming undone. He was sneaking out to the garage to avail himself of a vehicle for the return to town. He would go into hiding for awhile and see how this all blew up before he decided what he would do next. So caught up was he in his ruminations that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.

Abruptly a hand clamped over Methone's mouth as the other hand grasped his arm and twisted it behind him. The shocked Malastarian was too afraid to move so he merely waited for his captor to reveal himself. Then Methone felt the hands twirl him around and he was facing the Jedi's apprentice.

"Methone, just who I was looking for. Where is Qui-Gon?"

"I don't know," he answered quickly. "You have got to let me go. They'll be out here looking for me in a minute. I've got to get out of here. He'll kill me."

"He'll have to get in line behind me," retorted Obi-Wan. "Now tell me where he is." The padawan shoved Methone against the wall and pinned him there.

"I tell you I don't know," Methone looked around nervously. "Ruka went to see about him and he was gone. The window was busted out and the room was empty. I don't know where he went. Now, please, let me go." Methone's voice took on a whine.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment then grabbed Methone by the arm and shoved him ahead. "Come on, we're going to look for him."

"No! No. You don't understand. Ruka is going to kill me. I've got to get out of here." The Malastarian was struggling against Obi-Wan's strong grip.

"Don't worry. I can't afford to let you get killed. Now, get going."

Qui-Gon came to his senses gradually. The last waking memory was of the black menace. Startled, he looked around for the dark form. His fuzzy brain was relieved to find no evidence of it or of any injuries to himself. He sat for a moment waiting for his head to clear and realized it hadn't really been clear in a long time. Slowly he got his feet under him and rose to lean against the wall of the closet. After allowing his system a moment to settle, the Jedi opened the closet door just a bit and peered out. Slowly he eased the door more and more open. Convinced there was no one else around, he exited the closet and crossed the room to look out a window. The chill breeze from outside hit his bare skin, bringing a hard shiver. Withdrawing, Qui-Gon looked around for anything to wrap around himself to stave off the cold. However, there was nothing at all. The house had been abandoned for so long that it had been picked clean for some time.

Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the windowsill for a moment. He was exhausted, cold, hungry, and thirsty. Vaguely he wondered which would be his downfall. Which of his needs would cause him to give in? He wasn't sure how long he'd gone without food or water. Time held little meaning for him now. His sleep was restless and disturbed, not restoring. Being half bare was beginning to cost his body badly needed warmth. If he couldn't find covering soon he might succumb to hypothermia. That was all in addition to his struggle against the drug that was attacking his mind. Qui-Gon didn't even know that he'd been injected. His nebulous brain function couldn't figure out when he was hallucinating and when he wasn't; it sure couldn't figure out what was causing the hallucinations.

Glancing out the window once more, the Jedi could see that the sun was low in the sky. Maybe that would be to his advantage. It would certainly be easier to keep himself hidden once it got dark. The only problem was that he didn't know where to go. _I'll worry about that later. First just let me get away from this place. _ Carefully he climbed out the window, keeping a watch for any movement. He began to creep along the side of the structure, plotting his next move. The next building was about 50 feet away. He planned to follow this wall as far as he could before he made a dash to the adjacent building. He was beginning to shiver more vigorously now out in the cool breeze. But he wouldn't let himself think about it. _Just keep going. Think on that._

Ruka continued to flow back and forth along the floor of his office. "Dolts!" he sneered. "How hard can it be to find a drugged, half-distraught person? He can't have gotten far in his condition. Why is it so hard for them to find him?" By now he was yelling. "And they can't even find that sniveling Methone! I know his lack of intelligence. Surely he can't have outsmarted my men!" Ruka stopped to consider the situation. Was it possible that someone was helping the Malastarian? Surely not. If he had someone helping him he wouldn't be so cowardly…would he? This was a new situation for the Klastarian. He wasn't used to the cloak and dagger routine. He'd been merely a research scientist before this. And when he had started working with Methone, he had found out how spineless the Malastarians were as a race. Methone had been so easy to manipulate and to intimidate. But Methone was a lot more used to this under-the-table practice—maybe he had some tricks up his sleeve Ruka was unaware of. Maybe his gutlessness was part of an act meant to get Ruka off his guard. Ruka's musings were interrupted by one of his men.

"Excuse me," he murmured.

"Well," Ruka bellowed. "Any word?"

"No sir. We have been searching the woods near here and there is no sign of him."

"Methone?"

"No sir."

Ruka considered. "You are searching the woods?"

"Yes sir. As long as it has been since he disappeared we figured that he had left the commune by now and was trying to get through the woods."

"Well, it's getting dark now. I suggest you pull your men back to the buildings. Instead of running, the Jedi might have tried to find a place to hide until tomorrow. Post guards at each perimeter of the commune and pull the rest of the men back to search the buildings."

"Yes sir."

The Jedi master had been making his way along the buildings, watching carefully. He saw lights further out, near the trees. He tried to stay low. By now he was shaking violently. Also, his mind was beginning to interpret the lights as eyes of a large black monster. As the lights moved and changed directions along with the searchers' movements, Qui-Gon imagined a long serpentine monster crawling, slithering toward him. Sometimes it had only two eyes. Other times it had four or five. He envisioned a head surrounded with yellow, glimmering eyes. The number of eyes varied as the head tilted this way and that. It was coming, but the eyes didn't seem to get any bigger. It was coming his mind told him. He could see huge, man-sized teeth. He could feel its cold breath blowing across his naked torso. He shook and tried to run. The ground was tilting under his feet. Up became down, down became up. He couldn't keep his feet under him because he didn't know where the ground was. He was trembling both from cold and from fear. The terrified Jedi stumbled to the ground. He tried to get up and he couldn't. He was so tired, so cold, so tired, so cold. But he had to get up—the monster, the monster.

Suddenly he felt a touch and yelled out. A hand covered his mouth and the Jedi master started struggling to get loose, but he couldn't. So tired, so cold. He had to get loose. He fought but his effort became feeble.

"Master, Master. It's me, Obi-Wan. Shh! You have to be quiet. They'll find us."

_Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan?_ The drugged exhausted mind tried to think but all he could remember was a big black serpent. And he tried to resist. Obi-Wan saw the tremors that racked his master's body and felt the cold skin. He removed his Jedi robe and wrapped it around Qui-Gon. "It's OK, Master. It's me." He struggled through the Force to reach out to Qui-Gon's mind and calm him. Even though there was confusion, it was still easy for the padawan to comfort his master because he was too tired to resist what Obi-Wan was trying to do. Soon Qui-Gon quit fighting and fell into the unconsciousness that had come to follow his hallucinations.

"Ok, Methone," Obi-Wan growled at the Malastarian. "You helped cause this, you can help me get him out of here." The two strove to get their arms around the Jedi master and pull him to his feet. They put his arms over their shoulders and began dragging him to the garage.

"We're going to be caught!" Methone whimpered. "Ruka will kill all of us."

"Just shut up and help," Obi-Wan snapped. "The quicker we get to a vehicle, the quicker we can get out of here."

"But look, the lights are getting closer. They are coming back!"

"We've still got plenty of time if you will work and shut up."

The two made their way past a couple of buildings, keeping an eye out for sentries. They entered the rear door of the garage building. Obi-Wan eased the door open and looked in. No guards. Ruka's limited manpower was on their side. He indicated the nearest vehicle. They dragged Qui-Gon to it and lowered him in. Obi-Wan didn't have to order Methone it; he was in before the apprentice could say a word. Obi-Wan leaped into the operator's seat and started the engine. The guard who had been outside the front entrance came running in. Obi-Wan pushed the throttle all the way forward and aimed at the Klastarian who was in the process of bringing his blaster rifle to bear on the speeder. He had to dive out of the way, however, and missed any chance at a shot.

Methone had moaned and worried all during the short drive to the city about someone following them or waiting for them at the spaceport. However, Obi-Wan never detected any following vehicles. Obi-Wan had managed to find out a little about all this from Methone while he had been searching for Qui-Gon. And if this operation was just a deal between Methone and Ruka, then he doubted that anyone at the spaceport would have any reason to try to stop representatives from the Republic from leaving. By the time they had reached the landing facility, Qui-Gon had reached a state of semi-consciousness. It made the job of getting him on the transport easier since he was no longer a dead weight. Obi-Wan settled his master on a couch in the rear of the transport and covered him well.

"Now, can I please go? I've got to get out of here," whined Methone.

"You are getting out of here," Obi-Wan replied. "With me."

"What?" the Malastarian croaked. "No!"

"Yes." Obi-Wan countered as he toggled the switch to close the transport's ramp. "You are going back to the Jedi council and tell them about Ruka and his virus and his drugs."

Methone's eyes were wide as he sputtered. Obi-Wan simply walked to the cockpit and strapped himself in. After informing the spaceport that he wanted to take off, the padawan started the engines—and the trip to Coruscant.

Master Qui-Gon was finally warm and comfortable for the first time in…he had lost track of the time. He was bundled up in a bed in the healer's hospital area at the Jedi temple. He wasn't sure how long he had been here. From what Obi-Wan and the healers had told him he understood he had been under the influence of a drug. That's what had caused all the strange delusions and loss of reality that he had experienced. By the time that he had been brought back to Coruscant the drug had already begun losing concentration in his system. Even though he had not been Ruka's prisoner very long, the medication was strongly addictive, so there was a short but painful period of withdrawal as his body had to adjust to not having the drug. Also he had to recover from the fatigue, dehydration and near hypothermia that he'd had. Thankfully he had been sleeping through a lot of his recovery time, so he didn't suffer too much. Today was the best he had felt since being back on Coruscant. He was just glad to be out of the trance the drug had kept him in.

Not being able to tell dream from reality had taken its toll on his psyche. He could recall things that had happened but wasn't sure if they were real events or hallucinations. He felt he had lost part of himself, his life. And it especially bothered him that he couldn't recall if his attempt to kill the Malastarian was real or not. He hoped it was a hallucination. He deeply hoped that he had not been so close to needlessly ending a life. The master had not wanted to talk about this side of what he had been through, but the healers knew the effects of mind-altering drugs and knew that part of his healing would be a healing of his mind and soul. They knew that the only way to come to grips with the memories…or lack thereof…was to face them and talk them through. It was very difficult for the highly stoic and controlled Jedi to admit the rein that his emotions had held over him. Never before had he experienced such raw terror. And knowing that fear leads to the dark side made this an especially concerning experience. Qui-Gon admitted that the fear was induced by things he had no control over, so it was not the same as fear caused by his conscious mind. That knowledge, however, still did not totally drive the uncertainty from him. Qui-Gon wondered if his raw emotions and uncertainty left him vulnerable to the dark side just now. It was a lot easier to effect the physical healing than the psychological healing that accompanied his ordeal.

Qui-Gon would heal physically a lot sooner than psychologically. The healers wanted him to understand that. It would take time to explore his doubts and questions about his relationship to the Force after his experience. There were many issues to be addressed. He needed to understand the difference between what was going on in his conscious mind as opposed to his subconscious mind. Therein would lay to key to alleviate his concerns about being subjected to such strong fear. Since he was newly recovering, the therapy they hoped to engage him in had yet to begin. So, for right now it was still a raw wound, one he was having trouble dealing with. And it had touched him deeper than he had initially realized. The memory of the green creature, who he found out from Obi-Wan was indeed real, directing his actions disturbed him greatly. True he was uncertain how much was real and how much was hallucination. However, the thought of another controlling him was especially hard to deal with. It made him immediately suspicious of people around him. Paranoia was a common side effect of hallucinogens he was told…and was at once suspicious of the information. Qui-Gon had entrusted his life to these healers before and now he didn't trust them. And he couldn't just explain it away either. Even though his rational mind understood what was explained to him, underneath, he just couldn't totally accept it. He was too afraid of being thrown back into that pit of delusion. It was a good thing that right now he needed mostly rest to recover his health. If the healers had tried to administer medication, he probably would have resisted it.

The only trust Qui-Gon could give easily was to his padawan. Their bond was such that it could over come what the Jedi had been through. Also, the fact that Obi-Wan was the person who had rescued him from the clutches of Ruka helped reinforce that trust. The apprentice had not been far from his master's side since their arrival back at Coruscant and his constant presence had a calming effect in the middle of the confusion that Qui-Gon was still trying to sort out. It was hard on Obi-Wan to see the master this way. Always strong, calm, confident…now he was easily frightened, suspicious of every noise…and dependant on Obi-Wan. He was having almost as much trouble dealing with this as Qui-Gon was. The personality change was so far-reaching that Obi-Wan almost felt like a different person was his master now. Master. He hardly seemed that now. It seemed as if the two had changed roles, Obi-Wan was now the one encouraging, taking care of, and re-teaching Qui-Gon about the Force.

The healers assured him that Qui-Gon _would_ recover…it would just take time. Healing of the inner man is always the hardest kind of healing they had said. His master was still there, but hidden under the damage the drug had done to his mind. With time and patience and care he would be _almost_ the same man he once was. Almost…almost…he was changed by the experience and part of it he would always carry with him. Obi-Wan had no choice but to believe. He just couldn't imagine Qui-Gon any other way—even seeing him as he was. That was not Qui-Gon. That was only a shell of him. If he could help his master find himself, then he would. He noticed Qui-Gon's eyes fluttering shut as he fell back into sleep and pulled the blanket up around him and sat down to watch and wait.

Methone had indeed told the Jedi council all about Ruka and his experimentations. The council had turned him over to the Galactic Senate for trial and punishment. They also had dispatched Jedi to return to the commune on Malastare. It was totally abandoned. Ruka and his men were long gone. They had left behind their equipment and some few vials of Ruka's experiments, which were promptly destroyed. Currently the Jedi were on a search mission for Ruka and his cronies to bring them to justice. Obi-Wan felt a surge of that old anger rear its ugly head at the thought that that criminal was still loose. He wanted to join the search for him. But he had something more important to attend to right now.

Endnote: Perhaps you may have heard of the experimentation done on soldiers or prisoners with so-called psychedelic drugs. Research has shown that causing a person to lose touch with reality or with self through such mind-altering drugs can indeed make it a simple matter to brain wash him. Properly manipulated while under the influence of such drugs can cause a person to commit wanton acts without hesitation or remorse. And a drug-sodden brain can mask recall of such actions.

Sequel to come soon.


End file.
